


I Love You When You're Angry

by Deannie



Series: I Love You When [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his lover goes on a tear, Jim tries to lighten the mood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You When You're Angry

Here's a cute little light one--just so you know that I'm not *always* down in the dumps (g), and that I *do* love to see these two together. --Deannie 

DISCLAIMER: Pet Fly and UPN own the rights to Jim and Blair. I don't like it, but it's their right--after all, without them, what would I write fanfic about? 

RATING: PG (if that (snerk) 

NOTES: Wrote this after a *very* bad day at work, and a long conversation with an old love. 

WRITTEN: June 20, 1997 

## I Love You When You're Angry

by Dean Warner  


Blair Sandburg was in hell. That was the only logical answer here. He stomped up the stairs to the loft, unlocking the door and slamming it viciously. 

"What's the problem?" 

The sound of his lover's voice startled him briefly--the irritation in it only giving his growing anger more fodder. 

"I thought you were supposed to be on a stake-out," Blair grumbled, reaching into the fridge for a beer as Jim walked down the stairs from their room. He jerked away from the larger man's attempted embrace. 

"Don't, Jim," he grated. "I've had a *really* bad day." 

Jim Ellison watched him carefully as the anthropologist walked over to the patio doors and stood there, looking out at the rain. He approached carefully. Blair was not one to mess with when he was angry. 

"Wanna tell me about it?" Jim asked quietly. 

Blair shrugged through a swig of his beer. "Not particularly." 

Jim took his hand, leading the man to their couch, and sitting next to him comfortingly. "I'm sorry you had a bad day," he sympathized, rubbing an errant hand across his lover's back. 

That appeared to be all the impetus Blair needed to let out his story. His eyes flashed as he scooted away from Jim slightly, gesturing wildly with his beer bottle still in his hand. 

"Okay, I go in to school today, right?" he asked, not waiting for answer. "Beginning of the summer term--easy schedule and not too many screw-ups to teach--I run smack into Professor Hillary. 'Hey, Dr. Hillary,' I say, 'How's it going?'" 

A draught of beer interrupted him. 

"'Mr. Sandburg,' he replies, all pissed off and high and mighty, 'When did you plan on posting the grades for your Intro class from last semester? I'm sure you're aware that the grades are supposed to be posted within twenty-five days of the end of term.'" 

Blair put down his bottle--Jim had to grab it so that it wouldn't fall off the table--and continued with just as much fire. "Okay, Jim, now you *saw* me grade those damn exams, right?" He plunged on as Jim nodded calmly, not noticing the small grin that tugged at the detective's lips. "I graded them, I calculated the semester grades--a pain in the ass all by itself!--I entered the grades in the computer--hell, I even sent a fucking email to the registrar's office, telling them that I wanted confirmation of the entries!" 

He took a deep breath, and Jim wondered if the kid knew that he was breathing so hard. Probably not. Jim's lips twitched again. Blair really was pretty cute when he was on a tear--so long as the anger wasn't directed at Jim himself. The detective sat back, trying not to look like he was enjoying the show so much. 

"They sent me confirmation--I showed that to Hillary, but he couldn't have cared less!" Blair's eyes flashed again, and Jim fought not to get too excited by it. Blair definitely wouldn't be amused. 

"He told me that, since I'd already returned the exams to my students, that I'd just have to pull out my old files, and recalculate the grades again!" 

He was silent for a long moment, and Jim finally thought of something to say. "And?" 

Blair sprang up from the couch, pacing, his almost feline movements making Jim hotter than he should have been, given the subject matter. 

"Jim?" Blair asked incredulously. "This is *me*! I put everything in the computer, and I send it off. There's no reason to keep written records!" 

"But you have the scores on *your* computer, right?" 

Blair ran a hand through his hair--a hand whose movement suddenly made Jim's pants feel sizes too tight. 

"Of course! Of course I had them on my computer!" 

"Then everything's fine, right?" 

Blair looked at him as if he were crazy. "Yeah, just great! Except that--as you'll remember--the Kaminsky case came up right after finals. I spent the next two and a half weeks riding shotgun on your stupid back woods' stakeout!" 

The look of comprehension he expected to see in Jim's eyes wasn't forthcoming. 

"I forgot to save my own copy of the test scores, Jim," Blair explained, feeling like he was tutoring a jock. "I don't *have* them!" He slammed back into the couch, ignoring the arm Jim slipped around his shoulders. "Now I've got to get the exams back from the kids, and calculate the grades all over again!" 

Jim pulled Blair's head down gently, until it was laying on his own broad shoulder. "I'm sorry, Chief," he whispered, kissing Blair's scalp lightly. "That really sucks." 

Blair was still mad, his lack of movement doing nothing to take the edge out of his voice. "Yeah. It sucks. Story of my life." 

Jim smiled, glad that Blair's face was currently resting against his chest, so the anthropologist couldn't see it. Blair was just so *cute* when he was like this! All Jim wanted to do was kiss him and make it better. 

He *did* kiss him--but it didn't make anything better. 

"Come on, Jim," Blair said quietly, pulling away. "Stop it." 

Jim donned his put-upon expression and sighed. 

"Don't do that," Blair complained. "I hate it when you do that." 

"Yeah," Jim continued, pout firmly in place. "But you know it works." 

Blair shook his head, rising and heading for the refrigerator again. "Not today." He sighed mightily. "Man, it's gonna take forever to get all this stuff recalculated." 

Uh-oh, Jim thought, his smile deeply hidden. Blair's got his second wind. 

"And Dr. Hillary! Jesus! The man could not be more condescending if he *tried*." His voice and manner took on that of the straight-laced old professor. "'I'm sure you're aware that the grades are supposed to be posted within twenty-five days of the end of term.'" He took a swig of his new beer, and resumed his pacing. 

Okay, Jim had had it. He just couldn't keep the grin from his face any longer. If the kid kept pacing, Jim was going to take him right there on the rug--price of the dry cleaning be damned! 

"It's like he's never fucked up in his life, right?" Blair asked, turning furiously to head back to the other side of the room. "And this isn't even *my* fault! The registrar's office is the one that screwed up!" He turned to pace again, sparing a slight glance at his lover. 

"And now *I* have to call all those kids and tell them that..." He trailed off as he noticed Jim's smile. 

"What the *hell* is so funny?" he grated, pulling at his beer again. 

Jim rose, walking to his lover and putting his hands on his shoulders. He bent down, and tenderly kissed Blair's lips, smiling all the while. 

"What?" Blair asked again, confused now. How had a discussion of stodgie old Dr. Hillary suddenly become a form of foreplay? 

Jim smiled, and kissed him again, whispering into the kiss. 

"I love you when you're angry," he said, reaching down to hold his partner's ass tenderly in his hands, as he pulled the younger man closer, and deepened their kiss. 

Blair grinned slyly as Jim came up for air and pulled lightly on his lover's arm, as he led him toward the bedroom. 

"Maybe I should get mad more often," Blair purred.  
  


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